


dependence

by chiltonism



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Empathy, M/M, Soulmates, au ???? sort of, chilton and mason are faves so they'll be there, other shit i'll tag later, they feel one another's emotions slash pain
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-20
Updated: 2015-06-19
Packaged: 2018-04-05 05:51:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4168329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chiltonism/pseuds/chiltonism
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>something in Will's empathy changed. when the knife made contact with his abdomen, all the inner workings that made him tick switched around and focused on the hands that were holding him close. focused on the body that was pressed against his, and the knife that had inserted itself into his being.</p><p>now Will feels the euphoria that comes with Hannibal's dining, and he hates it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	dependence

_"he was numb except for dreading the loss of numbness"_

\- Thomas Harris,  _Red Dragon_

**Waking up in pure euphoria should have been a dead give away.**

Even groggy and unaware of his current surroundings, Will Graham was quick witted and naturally lucid enough to comprehend that such euphoria should not be felt upon waking up from something of a coma. All the medical instruments beside his bed were consistent with someone whom hadn't awoken in a great deal of time, and thus, his assumption had been correct -- Hannibal had truly done a number on him.

He felt for his glasses that he'd assumed to be on his bedside, just trying to ground himself and get a sense of where he was. It was a hospital room, no doubt, with the sound of his racing heart echoing in his ears and footsteps just outside his door. Distracted by the sound and not so much by the touch, he was unaware that he'd knocked over a glass of water that had been left for him until the plastic cup clattered to the floor, accompanied by a wet sound. Will froze, the muscles in his stomach seizing at the sound that reminded him all too well of the gushing blood that had escaped from Abigail's neck as she lay, dying, on the floor.

Also immediately did the memory of his own blood spilling onto the floor and how much  _did didn't care_ about his own well being echoed through his mind, and he looked down. There was this strip of white that ran circular around his injured abdomen, and he gritted his teeth on how mundane it looked. It almost appeared as though he were leaving a regular surgery, and everything was fine.

Oh. The cup. Guilt splashed -- no pun intended -- through him, and he leaned as best he could without straining and reopening his wound, and he glanced over the edge of the bed where the cup had fallen. There was really nothing he could do to salvage it now; the water was spreading under the bed, running against the tile floors like --

\--and suddenly, it was red, a sullen scarlet that made his throat dry. He followed the stream with his eyes, and he found that the cup he'd distinctly thought had been plastic had in fact been china. It was a tea cup, shattered, and running blood all over the floor.

" _time did reverse. the teacup that shattered did come together._ "

The teacup looked quite shattered now, despite the lingering feeling of Hannibal Lecter's breath beside his ear. He cringed, and in response, the teacup started to move, to take form again. 

" _the place was made for all of us together._ "

Averting his eyes, Will tried to search for his glasses again, but instead found himself somewhere other than the hospital room. He was sitting in a chair rather than a hospital bed, and he was fully clothed -- despite the tear at the bottom of his button up that revealed his wrap around white bandage. Trembling, he stood, and crossed the room to where a man sat dining. A man with perfectly groomed hair that was sitting in front of a plate of meat.

Will was well aware that he hadn't eaten anything solid in the past few... whiles, so he grasped the nearest object, a shelving, and dry heaved against the wall. Dr. Hannibal Lecter raised the meat to his mouth, smiled softly at it as though it were an old friend (perhaps it was, Will thought bitterly, with another dry heave and a sick, cold feeling in the pit of his stomach), and then devoured it slowly and sensually.

This feeling blossomed from the coldness in his belly. It grew up within him, like smoke, infiltrating every essence of his being. Will choked on it, trying to force it down, but it came billowing out his throat, and he screamed silently into the cold. It felt as though the memory of Hannibal Lecter was physically holding him down, invading him, choking him. 

And when reality came crashing back, that euphoria was bright and constant. The euphoria that Hannibal described to him upon eating the forsaken meat he'd chosen to dine upon. It had shaken him to the core, and Will was so rattled he could scarcely breathe.

In the past few months, Will Graham had felt that he had a better control on what was real, and what wasn't. He was able to carry on a ruse that would have eventually lead to the capture of Hannibal Lecter, and found himself immersed in a persona that terrified him. Very little terrified Will, but this was the exception. He looked in the mirror and couldn't recognize what he was becoming, and it was then that he realized that he'd not only lost touch with reality, but with himself.

But this was real. This hospital room, the plastic cup spilling clear water onto the floor. The erratic beating of his tortured heart that continued to chug away inside him for some, strange reason. This feeling in his gut.

Something had changed when Hannibal decided to stab Will out of betrayal. The inner workings that made the man a fraction of the being that he still existed as, they'd probed the hand that held the knife. They searched the betrayal, and found the connection. The connection that had buried itself so deep in Will Graham that the decisions he'd made were nothing he'd had made just weeks before.

 " _you were supposed to leave_."

But he didn't, and now Will could feel him. He could feel the fact that the blood that pumped through his veins was no longer his own, and the heart that beat alongside his was far away. 

Will Graham had always had someone fiddling around in his head that wasn't him. But this time, the phrase had never been truer. 

Accompanied by the taste of blood like wine in his mouth, Will laid his head back on the white sheets and ground his teeth, fighting the scream that was shoving at his throat like the smoke that embodied Hannibal Lecter.

* * *

Safe in his home, Dr. Fell took a gentle sip of his wine and closed his eyes. His meal had been far more than satisfactory, and he was pleased with the outcome of the evening.

A small pain prodded at his abdomen. His fingers felt, beneath his shirt, and grazed against the ghost of a scar, like something he'd received as a small child that disappeared with age. 

Dr. Fell smiled, softly. Will Graham had awoken at last. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> deAR GOD.
> 
> i've been trying to write a hannibal fic on here for ages. first it was a monster fic, then a chilton fic for every week we don't have s3, and then several other ideas that i may or may not enact. 
> 
> this series will be an au from s3. it will have similar elements and similar characters, but may all together have a completely different end. which will be fun, right?
> 
> i've always been fascinated with the idea of soulmates, and i wrote one about hanni and will being soulmates and seeing color for the first time together, but i figured this one had a lot more to run with. let's see how this goes, shall we?
> 
> thank you for reading~!


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